The Pavilion Man Page 2

  “You have to come with us, Mikhail; you have no choice.”

  “I have a choice; I am a private citizen now. You can’t give me orders.”

  “You took the oath. It is your duty.”

  “Yes, the oath of honour. You forget I know many good and honest agents.”

  “You are one of us, Mikhail; you know you can never escape it.”

  “No, Viktor, I can. I am not like you or Sergei and never will be.”

  “I see how you love working in this shop. You seem very happy, but happiness does not always last forever, Mikhail,” replied Viktor.

  “So now you are threatening me?”

  “All I’m saying is that we need to go to Igor’s house in the country this weekend. Be ready for us when we come,” said Viktor as he turned and walked away from the workshop.

  Mikhail knew from Viktor’s words: ‘You took the oath. It is your duty’ that this would not be the end of their demands on him and that if he didn’t do something to stop Sergei and Viktor, he would never escape from his old life. He left a message for Igor Zaslavsky at his TV station to say that he had information about who burnt down his apartment building and feared Igor’s life might be in danger in his country house at the weekend. Within a few hours after Mikhail’s call, Igor’s assistant called him back to arrange a meeting with Igor at a local café in St Petersburg the next day.

  Mikhail arrived at the precise time requested for his meeting. He was anxious to get the meeting over with so he could put the last few days behind him. Surprised that a rich man such as Igor had chosen to meet him in this small local café, Mikhail's eyes were meticulously looking all around him. As an ex-intelligence officer suspicion never left him, he only began to feel more relaxed when reassured no one had followed him. The café was unusually quiet at midday. No one else was inside except the young women making coffee at the counter. Mikhail got himself a cup of coffee and sat at a corner table with his back to the wall so he could see who was coming in.

  A couple came into the café but were told by the woman at the counter that it was closed due to staff shortage and would open later in the day. They looked over at Mikhail and left without protest. The café worker quickly went to the door, locked it and turned over a closed sign. Puzzled by this, Mikhail thought that he may have been setup and got up ready to leave when there was a knock on the window of the café. The café worker went to the door and opened it to three men.

  Igor Zaslavsky entered with two of his bodyguards, one in front of him and one behind. He went towards Mikhail seated at the table and shook his hand.

  “Mikhail, I am pleased to meet you,” said Igor.

  “How did you know what I looked like?” asked Mikhail.

  “I make it my business to know who I deal with,” replied Igor.

  Mikhail noticed as Igor greeted him, the initials ‘IZ’ embroidered on the cuff of his shirt and how soft his hands were unlike his own rough bruised blacksmith’s hands. Igor Zaslavsky was a stoutly built man in his late forties, immaculately dressed, making him look out of place in a local café.

  “I am very grateful you came,” said Igor as he sat down at the table while his two bodyguards sat on separate tables, one near the door and the other by the counter with his back turned away from Igor’s conversation, watching the door.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Mr Zaslavsky, but I’m surprised you chose such a public place for us to meet,” said Mikhail.

  “Please call me Igor. We must trust like friends. This place is safe; I own this café and most of the businesses along this road,” said Igor.

  “What, every business on this road?” asked Mikhail.

  “Yes, I believe in working hard to the best of my ability and taking every opportunity I can,” replied Igor. One of his bodyguards brought over a coffee and with a teaspoon sipped some of the coffee before putting it down in front of Igor.

  “You take no chances with the coffee,” said Mikhail.

  “Many people want to destroy me.”

  “You have done very well for yourself in such a short time,” said Mikhail.

  “Tell me how you know about my office being bugged and who burnt down my new apartment block.”

  “I was there, but I took no part in these criminal acts except to break into your small office as I had no choice.”

  “I see. The men who did this threatened you?”

  “Yes in their way, they are corrupt intelligent agents,” said Mikhail.

  “That is the way our country is going; these wolves keep wanting more fur to keep themselves warm why everyone else freezes,” said Igor.

  “Yes, all this greed has made them turn their back on the people they should be serving,” replied Mikhail.

  “I know you are not like that. I hear you are a respected former intelligent agent,” said Igor.

  “I must have known you would check up on me.”

  “I know you are good at playing chess.”

  “That is the one thing I miss the most since leaving that job. We had a lot of time to think of our chess moves. That’s how I got good at it,” said Mikhail.

  “I would enjoy a game with you one day.”

  “I would like that. But first I want the truth to come out about the corruption of these men working for the intelligence service. I don’t want to be controlled by criminals,” said Mikhail.

  “You are a man after my own heart, Mikhail. I told myself from the age of twelve that no one will ever control my destiny. That was after being bullied at school. From that time, I planned every stage of my life.”

  “And now you are a very successful and influential man,” said Mikhail.

  “You too can have success. I came from the village in Ust Tsilma region and got all this because like you I’m an honest man who works hard and loves my country.”

  “I too come from Ust Tsilma.”

  “Ah, this is very fitting that we are both from the birthplace of the old believers.”

  “I’m here to tell you, Igor, not to go to your country house this weekend. These men I talk about will go there to do you harm,” warned Mikhail.

  “This is nothing new, my life is at risk every day,”

  “Yes, but these men have methods that can only be stopped by those who know how.”

  “If you have that knowledge, work for me. I’ll pay you well,” said Igor.

  “I’m happier in my simple trade as a blacksmith."

  “Then come to my TV station and expose them all.”

  “I have a family to protect,” replied Mikhail.

  “We can bring these corrupt people down together; our country is crying out for justice,” said Igor.

  “If they know it is me who has exposed them I will never be free.”

  “And if you don’t expose them, you will never be free anyway.”

  “Yes, I know this. Whichever way I turn I have no choice.”

  “People will want to listen to you, an honest, loyal former intelligence officer.”

  “If you have the muscle to protect me I will do it,” said Mikhail.

  “I know people that matter,” replied Igor.

  “Then I will come on TV and expose those who want to destroy our country.”

  The two men parted company with a deeper understanding of each other and the knowledge that despite their differences in power and wealth their motives were the same. Mikhail left Igor with hope in his heart that he was doing the right thing and that with Igor’s influence they could make changes to the country they both loved. Mikhail left the café assured that he saw in Igor, a man he could trust to protect him and his family, a man that was an old believer in justice like himself.

  Chapter 3

  “Are you sure you can trust this rich man, Igor?” asked Yelena as Mikhail got ready to go to Zaslavsky’s TV studios for his interview.

  “Yes, he is like us, Yelena, he got out of the village life, and I like him.”

  “But you’ve only known him for a short time. These rich
men they don’t care about people like us.”

  “I have heard many good things about him; he is a straight man, trust me, my darling.”

  “I hope you’re right, Mikhail, as we are risking more than he is.”

  “Yelena, I have to do this interview because Sergei and Viktor will never leave me alone. Igor is a powerful man and I have no choice but to trust him.”

  Mikhail arrived at the TV studios wearing his best suit, a grey flannel jacket, grey trousers, white shirt and a red bow tie.

  He sat under the studio lights with two cameras pointing towards him, clasping his hands, waiting nervously as a female interviewer asked him questions.

  “Mikhail Raspopov, you’ve worked in the intelligence agency since the age of eighteen, rising through the ranks to lead a division at a young age. What made you go into this profession?” asked the interviewer.

  “I came from a small village into a big city with nothing in my pocket. I joined at first because it was a matter of survival. The work gave me financial stability and the best training in the world. But I grew to love this work and most of all I wanted to serve this great country of ours.”

  “If you loved it why did you leave at thirty when you had many more years to serve?”

  “Things changed in the organisation. Recruits with the wrong attitude were joining not to serve our country but to further their interests.

  “You mean they wanted to make themselves rich instead of serving people of this country?”

  “Yes, sadly I began to see this desire in many. I went to my superiors to ask for tougher vetting because of the activities I witnessed, but no one would listen to me.”

  Mikhail began sweating so much under the studio lights during the interview that the director moved the camera angle away from him and towards the journalist interviewing him while a make-up lady attended to Mikhail as the sweat poured down his face and neck wetting the collar of his shirt.

  “Are you saying that the intelligence agency’s system is corrupt?” said the interviewer.

  “It’s not the intelligence agency that is corrupt, it’s a few bad men who have become greedy and no longer care to serve the people but to be the rulers.”

  “What sort of corrupt things have they done?” she asked.

  “Stealing businesses no matter how small, burning down apartments and the attempted murder of those who stand in their way,” answered Mikhail.

  “And who do you blame for things getting out of hand?”

  “A fish rots from the head,” said Mikhail.

  “And who do you consider to be the head?” asked the journalist.

  “There are many I can name. I want the government to go after these people and end this corruption of the intelligence service.”

  “Can you give us the names of these people? I am sure someone in the government is watching,” pressed the interviewer.

  “They are experienced intelligence agents; one is Ser—” Mikhail’s microphone suddenly went dead, with the whole studio was plunged into darkness, with the TV monitors blank and lights out.

  There was shouting coming from behind the camera.

  “Everyone stay where you are; we’ve had a power cut.”

  Mikhail sat anxiously waiting until the lights came back five minutes later.

  “Should we continue?” asked the interviewer.

  “No, we’ve still got technical problems,” said the floor manager.

  “Thank you for coming to the studios, Mikhail, but we will have to resume at a later date,” said the director.

  “You want me to come back to finish the interview?”

  “We’ll wait for a response from the government and when we do will have you back if that is OK?” said the director.

  “Yes, I will do all I can to help,” replied Mikhail.

  “That’s good; it will keep the audience interested in tuning in.”

  “You get these blackouts often?” asked Mikhail.

  “Not for a very long time.”

  “Mr Zaslavsky will be very pleased with your interview,” said the interviewer.

  Mikhail left the TV studios satisfied with himself and not fearful about what he had exposed about the intelligence service. It had frustrated him for many years, and now he was relieved to have it out in the open.

  As he travelled back to St Petersburg on the train, he felt hopeful that once the upper echelons of the intelligence agency had seen his interview, they could not ignore it, and would have to do something about the corruption within their ranks. He thought about his last meeting with Igor and how much he admired his achievements. Arriving back home, Yelena was eagerly waiting for him. She had prepared for him a lunch of crispy fried small fish and freshly baked bread ready for him in the kitchen.

  “Why did the interview cut off?” asked Yelena.

  “They had a blackout, but I am not so sure it may have been deliberate,” said Mikhail.

  “Who could have done that? Sergei and Viktor?”

  “No, they are just the small fish. The big fish know I have the net to catch all those that are smelling bad.”

  “But are you allowed to talk about them? You signed a secrecy oath.”

  “It’s too late now; I have exposed them. Sergei and Viktor signed the oath of honour, but they are corrupt.”

  “I don’t want Marina’s life to be under threat,” said Yelena.

  “I will never put either of you in danger; you know that.”

  “Yes, but it seems we are going back to the life I thought we had left.”

  “Igor is on our side. He will do the right thing, you’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Everything will be fine, we’ll be safe,” said Mikhail biting into the last fish, seeming to be enjoying every bit of his lunch.

  “Are you not going to the workshop for the rest of the day?”

  “No, not today. I’m going to pick up supplies for the workshop, drop it off and be back to spend the rest of the day with my two beautiful ladies,” said Mikhail.

  When Mikhail had gone, Yelena cleared the kitchen and sat down to read a magazine on ballet dancing as she had been a dancer before having her daughter. She heard a frantic, loud knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “We’ve come to see Mikhail, open the door,” said a man’s voice.

  “Who are you?” asked Yelena.

  “We have business with him, we arranged a meeting with him but he is not at his workshop,” came a second male voice.

  “He’s gone to for supplies. I am sorry he missed your appointment. I’ll tell him to rearrange another meeting,” replied Yelena through the door.

  “Open the door, we have something urgent to give him,” said one of the men.

  “My hands are wet as I was about to bath my baby. Please keep it until you see him.”

  Yelena was suspicious of the two men. She had been married to Mikhail for three years and had learnt from him that intelligence officers’ lives were always in danger.

  She waited until she heard heavy footsteps of the two men going down the stairs before opening the door. There was a large piece of paper folded at her feet. Picking it up to unfold it, she saw on the sheet of paper photocopied photos of eight people. Seven of the faces had a red cross. The other face belonged to her husband, Mikhail. Yelena went back inside and locked the door. Shaken, she sat down at the kitchen table looking at the photos and feeling a dread that she had never felt before. Mikhail returned home to find her tearful with puffy red eyes as if she had been crying for hours.

  “What is wrong, Yelena? Is Marina OK?”

  “Two men left you this.” She handed over the large sheet of paper to Mikhail, he looked at it for a few moments and angrily screwed it up and threw it onto the kitchen table.

  “Did you see who brought these photos?”

  “No, I didn’t open the door. Who are these people in the photos?”

  “They are of people known to be enemi
es of Russia. All the ones crossed off with the red marking are either dead or imprisoned.”

  “All except your picture. This is our warning,” said Yelena.

  “You need to go and stay with my mother for a while until this blows over.”

  “Do you honestly believe things will blow over, because I don’t,” said Yelena.

  “I know how these people work. Trust me, I am one step ahead of them. I’ll be coming with you to the country.”

  “You keep saying these people; you mean Sergei and Viktor or all the people you put our lives in danger to expose?”

  “I’m going to ask Igor to give me some protection for the shop and get my cousin Yuri to run the workshop until we come back, he is a good blacksmith,” said Mikhail.

  “Our lives are now messed up, and you still trust in this rich man Igor. Why should he care about us?” said Yelena.

  “Yelena, I want you to pack a few things now. I’m going to the workshop to lock things up. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” said Mikhail, rushing out of the apartment with the supplies he had just picked up.

  Mikhail arrived at his workshop and looked around to see if anything had been disturbed. As he turned towards the back wall where he hung his tools, he saw painted in red the words ‘Enemy of the people’. Immediately he called Igor to tell him what had happened. Igor agreed without hesitation to send security to the shop the next morning.

  That night Mikhail did not sleep. He sat up with a loaded hand pistol, watching his front door and prepared to do anything to keep his wife and baby daughter safe. As a former intelligence officer he was always expecting the unexpected, he was ready for anything that night. As soon as daylight came, he felt relief that they had survived the night.

  “How long do you think we’ll be away? I’m not sure if I’ve packed enough for us all,” said Yelena.

  “Right now, I don’t know, sweetheart, but it doesn’t matter; we’ll be helping out on the farm most of the time.”

  “Back to village life. It almost sounds like bliss after the last few days, I’m almost looking forward to it,” said Yelena.

  “I’m going back to the workshop to meet the security Igor sent, and Yuri is coming so I can give him the keys.”